


what comes is better than what came before

by universe



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universe/pseuds/universe
Summary: Pippa has been holding her breath for what feels like hours, days,decades, waiting for an answer, a sound, even just the twitch of an eyelid.





	what comes is better than what came before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hihoplastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihoplastic/gifts).



> SURPRISE! it's been six years since i last wrote anything that wasn't academic or technical, so this was hard work despite being less than 1k. i do it all for you, bff. <3 i have at least half a dozen of wips for this ship, but i can't promise i'll ever get them finished. for now, have some fluff with entirely too many adverbs.

Pippa has been holding her breath for what feels like hours, days, _decades_ , waiting for an answer, a sound, even just the twitch of an eyelid.

She isn’t down on one knee (and is grateful for it, not sure her knees would take the strain of her sitting room’s hardwood floor), she doesn’t have a ring; had intended to propose, but not today, not here, not without further planning and perhaps a few carefully placed remarks so as to make sure Hecate wouldn’t be too startled when she did, but they’ve been playing chess and discussing magical theory and drinking tea, and a waft of steam had curled itself around Hecate’s cheekbone, and Pippa had found those four little words tumbling out of her mouth without her permission.

“Will you marry me?”

Pippa knew Hecate would need time to sort it all out in her head, but Hecate has been silent for such a long time that Pippa starts to think she might just have made the biggest mistake of her entire life, might have ruined everything they have worked so hard to get back, everything they have that is _more_ than what they had in their youth.

She thinks back to that day, months and months ago, shortly after everything had gone pear-shaped at Cackle’s yet again and Pippa’s worry for her best friend had driven her to her side in an instant. Hecate had been fine, physically, as had the girls, only Mildred Hubble having gotten a broken arm out of the whole mess. The arm was easily fixed, the mess a little less so, but Hecate’s state of mind had been another story entirely, and it had taken days of Pippa’s steady presence by her side to get her to admit how frightened she’d been for the girls, how frightened she always was that something might happen to them. That was the extent of her admission then, but Pippa had felt something change that day, a change that led to more frequent mirror calls, to regular visits, and even a whole weekend of attending a conference together. Between chess and reminiscing about their youth, it had started to feel like old times, and one evening, Pippa had found herself stumbling into an entirely unplanned confession of her feelings. And no matter how often she had dreamt of it, nothing had prepared her for the intense joy of knowing her feelings were returned. She can’t lose that now, she thinks, increasingly close to panic. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t.

Hecate’s voice is rough when she finally speaks, and the false start makes Pippa’s heart drum madly in her chest.

“Are... are you sure?”

It’s so typical, she thinks, for Hecate to doubt herself, to doubt _them_ —she knows that doubt is not born out of a lack of trust, but is rather a product of a life of abandonment, of grief and pain. Hecate has told her as much, more with body language than actual words; hitching voice, trembling hands and wet, glassy eyes in stuttered, stilted conversations under the cover of darkness. And she _wants_ that, wants it so badly it’s a physical ache inside her chest—wants Hecate, wants her forever.

“Am I sure that I want to marry the love of my life, who also happens to be my best friend?” (She loves the way Hecate’s breath catches in her throat every time Pippa tells her she loves her, even after the tenth, the hundredth, the thousandth time.) “Of course I’m sure, Hiccup.”

It occurs to her far too late that maybe Hecate _doesn’t_ want that. Pippa is certain she knows Hecate well enough, even now, _especially_ now, to say with confidence that Hecate is happy in their relationship. Maybe Hecate just doesn’t want to be married—to her or to anyone. Maybe she has upset their carefully constructed balance by asking for more than Hecate is ready to give, by _wanting_ too much too soon.

“Unless—unless you don’t—”

A flicker of pain, of panic must be in her voice, or maybe in her eyes, because Hecate, always quick to assuage Pippa’s worries, pulls her closer and breathes a fervent “No, I do!” against her lips before kissing her. Pippa melts into the kiss as she is wont to, kisses back with every ounce of feeling she has for this proud, vulnerable woman in front of her.

“Is—” she starts and stops when she has finally regained her breath, “Is that a yes?”

This time, the answer is instantaneous, and Hecate’s voice hardly trembles at all.

“Yes. I never thought you would— Yes, I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Hecate kisses her again, kisses the wide grin right off Pippa’s face and licks into her mouth until Pippa gasps and breaks away.

Looking into Hecate’s wide eyes, eyes filled with tears and a wild, desperate sort of hope, Pippa feels like she’s standing at the brink of something new—and yet so familiar. She knows getting married won’t actually change much for her; she’s known she’s been Hecate’s since she was seventeen years old and staring at the empty room her best friend had left behind, but she hopes so desperately that maybe _this_ will finally convince Hecate that Pippa has forgiven her, will drive that last bit of fear from her eyes whenever they part—fear that Pippa will change her mind, will no longer want her or love her, will decide Hecate doesn’t deserve her.

She’s standing at that brink, but with Hecate’s hand in hers, ring or no ring, she’s no longer afraid of anything and breathes freely for the first time in a long, long while.


End file.
